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It has often been said that marriage helps a person understand him or herself in amazing new ways. After just over a year of marriage, I can say that I agree with that observation. One of the things that I've learned about myself is that I just don't like change. There is this stubborn part of me that wants things to be the way they've always been, and I've found that this part tends to rear its ugly head at the weirdest times.
Let me give you an example: Tupperware makes me angry.
Yep, the little plastic containers have actually been an extremely volatile issue in our household. If that sounds weird, let me explain. The first time Tupperware hurt my feelings, I was standing in the cramped kitchen of our little apartment. I had just crinkled the edges of the aluminum foil over the side of the blue plate, which held some leftover pork chops I'd grilled earlier. I was opening the refrigerator door when Sarah, my wife, spoke up from behind me.
"You could put that in Tupperware, you know."
Her simple little suggestion may seem harmless to you, but it sort of ticked me off. I didn't know why, but I felt hurt, or betrayed, or angry or something. And the feeling only intensified every time she'd ask me to put some leftover potatoes or pizza or peas in one of the plastic things. I don't even like peas! And then when I washed the dishes I'd always have to scrub some of the little Tupperware devils by hand because they wouldn't fit in the dishwasher. And when I tried to stack them in the cabinet they'd end up falling out all over the place because we really didn't have room for them anyway!
I knew something had to change the day I got so mad at this little medium-sized tupperjunk thing that I launched it through the little window by the sink, and then just stared at it, hoping it would just lay there in the yard and painfully decompose over millions of years because that's the kind of torture it deserved.
OK, I actually didn't do anything violent like that, but I wanted to. But why? Was the Tupperware evil? Was my wife evil for making me use it? I sat down and seriously asked myself these questions. To test my sanity, I even told Sarah about my Tupperware struggles, and she confessed that she gets flustered when I don't use the little plastic orbs.
That's when I started that "understanding myself in amazing new ways" thing. I thought about how I grew up watching my parents put leftover food on plates and then cover the plate with foil or that annoying plastic wrap stuff. And since that was the way I had seen it done my whole life, I felt like that was the only right way to do it.
And even further, my parents method of food keeping somehow became part of who I was, and when someone deemed that way as inferior, I felt personally insulted. My self-worth had become directly tied to my tradition. So what's the deal, am I weird or just crazy? Maybe. But at least it seems I've got lots of company.
Why? Because the Tupperware thing seems to affect the church too doesn't it?
I've seen the things we get upset about, the things that split churches and even cause Christians to hate each other under the guise of righteous indignation. OK, so let's be obvious. Recently, it's been praise teams, powerpoint, songbooks, types of songs, lord's supper tables, pews or chairs, clapping, and I'm sure you could list dozens more. And I feel that these things in and of themselves are simply Tupperware issues, issues that are minimally important but our invested self-worth tells us otherwise. Consequently, it should be no surprise that people feel personally hurt over the introduction or exclusion of these and many more elements, and often go on verbally violent crusades in their name. Or worse, our ego-investment is so strong on an issue that we slyly misinterpret God's word in order to support our personal preferences and man-made traditions. And I'm indicting not only myself, but young/old, conservative/liberal, traditional/progressive (if any of these classifications actually mean much) and everyone in between.
Conflicts over Tupperware issues occur over and over to the point that maybe it's time to take a breath and sit on the couch, or pew, and think about where our feelings really come from. If you're willing, ask: Do I really think my most valued issues of conflict are vitally important to God, or just to me?
Are any current issues of dispute more important than the people hurt by the arguments?
Are any current tensions I feel about my church family important enough to jeopardize the unity that Jesus so highly regarded in John 17?
I mean, isn’t this exactly what missionary Paul was saying in the 8th chapter of his first book to the Corinthian people? Wasn’t he trying to get the point across that it was time for the Corinthians to start focusing on loving and respecting each other rather than focusing on disputed issues--specifically, issues that had very little importance in and of themselves?
My belief is that if we’ll get honest about what we feel, we'll realize that most of us across the spectrum don't really care very much about the issues we've been debating. What we actually care about is feeling valued, honored and respected--feeling that we matter--feeling that our voice is heard and thoughtfully considered--feeling that our opinion is important, not necessarily right or wrong--feeling understood--feeling loved.
Once I realized the source of my Tupperware conflict, things pretty much cleared up. I admit, I sometimes still feel a tinge of resentment when I put leftovers in plastic containers, and that may never go away. But now I understand that my feelings are not based on right or wrong practices, but rather they are signs of my deep human conflict between tradition and change. More importantly, I consequently understand that my feelings are valid and normal. And as a result, Sarah and I often find ourselves resolving intense conflicts with laughter instead of bitterness when we suddenly realize we're fighting over Tupperware issues.
My dream is that I will someday see the church doing the same. May God grant us the ability to see through our own pride and stop injuring each other over issues that truly don't matter. I pray that we can unite on the grounds of our common goals, and laugh at our unimportant disagreements. It's time we see our Tupperware issues for what they really are.
David Greer is the Campus Minister working on Colorado State University’s campus, and supported by the Meadowlark Church of Christ in Fort Collins, CO. He met his wife Sarah while they were students at the University of Alabama, and has been married just over a year. David is also a songwriter, set to release his first album in January of 2006.
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